


Our Little Hearts Will Be All Right

by poppyfields13



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Asthma attack, British Bucky Barnes, Brussel sprouts, Bullying, Evacuated Children, First Crush, German person slur, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve is still American though because OBVIOUSLY, Teen Romance, World War II, but not a lot, cute stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppyfields13/pseuds/poppyfields13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirteen year old Steve is sent to live in the English countryside, away from the dangers of the city. Meeting Bucky Barnes means it’s not quite as bad as he thought it would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Little Hearts Will Be All Right

Crying was not something Sarah Rogers did a lot of. At least, not in front of Steve. He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen his mother cry. This time she did it openly as swarms of youths crowded the train station. Some were talking to each other excitedly, others were crying as they clung to their parents. Steve's fingers twitched as he watched those kids, secretly longing to do the same.

He wished she wouldn’t cry, it just made leaving her worse. He was close to crying himself, something he knew a boy of thirteen was too old to do. It was just that, he had never been away from her. Even when he was hospitalised with pneumonia for five days, being a nurse at the hospital she had visited him almost every hour, and slept by his side at night.

Ever since she told him he was going away, Steve had persistently tried to convince her they needed to stay together. But no amount of begging could change her mind. She had never treated Steve like he was weak, but she knew bombs were something he couldn’t survive. He knew, standing at the train station, that trying to convince her he should stay one last time would be pointless. And with the with the rising lump in his throat, he didn’t think it would come out right anyway.

It wasn’t fair. After everything they had been through - losing Steve’s dad, then travelling all the way from America back to London to be with his ma’s family - family that Steve had never even met. Now his ma had to send her only child away, not knowing what would happen to either of them.

She gave Steve one last quick kiss on the cheek, then forcibly pushed him on to the train. He stayed with some of the other children who were sticking their heads and arms out the doors and windows, waving as the train departed. He hoped it wasn’t the last time he would ever see her.

Steve slowly made his way through the train. Unfortunately, it was very full, and the only available seats left were with families or groups of friends. "Um. Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked a sullen looking girl with two dark braids hanging over her shoulders. She glanced at him and shrugged, turning to glare out of the window. Perfect. He wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in talking to anyone. He stowed his suitcase and sat down with relief.

Steve was already the most hated kid in his class. Not only did he speak with a funny accent, but he was physically very different. All the other kids had started to shoot up, but Steve remained small and skinny. He was excused from Physical Education a lot due to his poor health, which only made them resent him even more.

He was awkward at socialising and often didn’t even try, making up the other kids minds about him before the they even had the chance to. His only friend from school, Peggy, had been evacuated to America earlier in the year. Steve longed to be on his way there as well. If he _had_ to leave his ma, couldn't they have at least sent him home?

A shout suddenly rang out from further up in the carriage. Gilmore Hodge, Steve’s least favourite person, was gesticulating to a group of girls who were giggling, hanging on to every word he said. Steve prayed Gilmore wouldn’t notice him -  and that they weren’t being sent to the same place, which would be even worse. Just as he was thinking this, Gilmore looked up and his eyes landed on Steve. His face lit up with glee.

Steve sighed and braced himself as Gilmore approached. “Rogers! Who let you on this train? I didn’t think anyone would care if a bomb landed on you.” He laughed, but no one else did. The whole train had grown quiet and the other kids mostly looked scared.

“I doubt anyone would even notice if you were dead!” continued Gilmore.

Steve knew Gilmore was a bully and he shouldn’t listen to anything he said. But it still stung. He felt like there was an element of truth to it. His ma loved him, of course, but he thought that was probably about it. Even his family largely ignored him.

He glared at Gilmore, but didn’t respond. He had promised his ma he wouldn’t get into any fights while he was away. He couldn’t break the promise after only twenty minutes.

Gilmore pushed at his shoulder, hard. “Are you deaf Rogers? I asked you a question!”

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size!” came a voice from Steve’s left. He turned in surprise to look across the aisle where a dark-haired boy was glowering at Gilmore. He had never seen the boy before and had no idea why this kid was sticking up for him. That never happened.

“Or what?” Gilmore said.

The boy stood up, his jaw set. He was about the same height as Gilmore. Wiry but not quite as broad. Perhaps a little bit awkward in his body, as if he had gone through a growth spurt recently and wasn’t quite used to it yet. But there was something intimidating about him. Steve didn’t doubt he could do some damage if he wanted.

It seemed like Gilmore was thinking the same thing as he sized the boy up. “If you want to get punched over the little runt, go ahead,” he said. “But this is a waste of my time.” With that, he turned on his heel and hastily made his way back to the girls, who were looking considerably less impressed with him.

“That’s what I thought!” the dark-haired boy yelled after him. He turned to Steve, “Are you all right?”

Steve realised he had been staring in awe and he unexpectedly felt his face grow warm. “I’m fine,” he said, with a little more hostility than he intended. To his dismay, the boy just laughed and shook his head as he sat down again. This made Steve’s face burn even more. He stared down at his lap and didn’t dare look up again until his heartbeat had slowed and he was certain he was no longer the focus of anyone’s gaze. He snuck a few more glances at the boy, but mostly looked out the window for the rest of the journey.

By the time it was his stop, there weren’t that many kids left on the train. He grabbed his suitcase and ran off without looking back. He got off the train and looked around for a man who might be Mr. Phillips, who was supposed to be picking him up. The only adult he could see was a woman herding a couple of toddlers and their luggage. He turned in a circle and when he noticed the brown-haired boy getting off of the train, he quickly turned back.

After the train had left, and he watched several children be collected by people who were, apparently, not Mr. Phillips, he sat down on his suitcase and put his chin in his hands. He was obviously going to be waiting awhile. The next time Steve looked over to the dark-haired boy, who was still there, he was quick to catch Steve’s eye. Before he knew what was happening the boy had bowled his way over and planted himself directly in front of Steve. A younger girl followed him.

Steve cautiously stood up, his eyes only came up to the boy’s cleft chin.

“Hi,” the boy said.

Steve didn't know what to make of him. In his experience, if another kid was overly friendly towards him it was usually so they could play a dirty trick on him later. But it seemed to Steve there was _something_ trustworthy about this boy. He _had_ scared away Gilmore Hodge, after all.

The boy thrust his hand towards Steve. "I'm James Barnes,” he said. He gave Steve a fleeting sceptical look before his face broke into a grin. "You can call me Bucky."

“Um. Steve Rogers,” Steve murmured. Before he could fully offer his hand, Bucky had grabbed it and gave it a rough shake. His hand was slightly sweaty.

“I'm fourteen,” Bucky said. “And Rebecca's ten.” Rebecca looked about as miserable to be there as Steve felt.

“I’m thirteen,” he said. He waited for Bucky to make some kind of gesture of disbelief that usually followed when Steve told someone his age, but it didn’t come.

“We’re waiting for Mr. Phillips,” Bucky said. “What about you?”

“Me too.” He actually felt relieved at hearing this news. He could probably get along with Bucky all right, and at least he wasn’t stuck with Gilmore.  

After the last child other than Steve, Bucky, and Rebecca had been collected, Steve felt himself start to panic. He didn’t _want_ to go and stay with Mr. Phillips, but having nowhere to go would be even worse.

Bucky must have been able to tell from the look on Steve’s face that he was worried, because he said “Don’t worry, I’m sure Mr. Phillips will be here soon.”

“If he doesn’t come, can we go back home?” asked Rebecca.

“He’ll be here,” Bucky said with a certainty Steve couldn’t understand.

Just then, they heard a car roar down the hill towards the platform and a horn blared. A man with a weathered face stuck his head out the window. “Rogers? Barnes?”

Steve nodded, dumbfounded.

“Uh, Yes sir,” Bucky said.

“Well, get in then!” the man barked.

Steve waited until Bucky had picked up his suitcase and started ushering his sister forwards, before he moved himself.

“Are you Mr. Phillips?” Bucky asked.

“Who were you expecting? The Queen of Sheba?” was his reply. “Of course I’m Mr. Phillips. Get in!”

The three of them piled into the backseat, balancing their suitcases on their knees.

“I hope you children aren’t always this slow,” Mr. Phillips said. Steve couldn’t tell if he meant physically or mentally. “We’ve got a bit of a drive. None of you better get carsick.”

Although Steve had never been carsick before, he suddenly felt a little queasy. He didn’t have the strongest stomach.

A half an hour or so of the journey passed before anyone said anything else. Finally, Bucky spoke, “So, what do you do Mr. Phillips?” It occurred to Steve that Bucky was a pretty talkative person, and he was having difficulty remaining quiet. Steve hoped that wouldn’t get annoying.

“I’m retired,” Mr Phillips said. “But I used to work for the government. Now my wife and I grow vegetables. Vegetables are one thing they can’t ration. I had thought you boys could help with the garden…” he trailed off, giving Steve a dubious look in the rearview mirror.

“That sounds fun!” Bucky interrupted. “We can all help, right Rebecca?” Rebecca made a noncommittal noise of assent. Bucky then lunged into a descriptive story about the greengrocer he used to help out with back in London, and Steve was happy to go back to being unnoticed.

Eventually, they drove down a long driveway and pulled up in front of a stone cottage. It was a nice looking house. Not too fancy, but definitely nicer than anywhere Steve had lived before. An impressively large vegetable patch lay beyond it.

They all got out of the car and Steve was relieved when the vague sickness in his belly disappeared. They followed Mr. Phillips inside and down a narrow hallway to the kitchen. “Here they are,” he said to a grey haired woman who was standing by the stove, leaning over a pot.

She turned around and smiled at them, she had a kind face. “Hello children,” she said. “What are your names?” Steve was surprised to hear that she had a thick German accent. Bucky looked a little surprised as well but quickly introduced himself and Rebecca. Steve did the same.

“I thought they said they were sending two fourteen year olds,” Mr. Phillips complained to her. “The big one will be helpful around here but the skinny one… Look at him, he's making me cry.”

“I am fourteen!” Steve said defiantly. “Well, thirteen. I’m nearly fourteen. And I _can_  help.” Everyone turned to look at him then. It was probably the most he had said all afternoon.

“Of course you can darling,” Mrs. Phillips said. “Now, I’m sure you are tired and hungry after your journey. Why don’t we get you settled in and then we’ll have tea.”

First, she showed them a very small bedroom that she said Rebecca would sleep in. Rebecca seemed disturbed by this and grabbed Bucky's hand. “I want to be near you,” she whispered.

“You’ll be fine,” Bucky reassured her.

Mrs. Phillips then led them up some stairs to the attic, where Steve and Bucky would sleep. Steve was concerned the attic wouldn’t be the best place for him, with his asthma, but it seemed very clean. He couldn’t see a speck of dust.

“The washroom is downstairs beside Rebecca’s room. Unpack your things and wash up before you come down for tea. Rebecca, come along.”

Rebecca gave Bucky a wistful look, then slowly followed Mrs. Phillips down the stairs. Bucky didn’t turn around until she was gone from sight. Then he turned and flung himself onto the bed closest to him. “This is fantastic!” he said. “I always wanted to sleep in an attic. I wonder if there are ghosts in here!”

This wasn’t something Steve had considered. But he thought if there was a ghost, it would probably leave soon enough, to escape Bucky’s constant chatter. “I doubt there are ghosts,” was all he said.

They unpacked pretty quickly, eager at the prospect of something to eat. When they made it to the kitchen Rebecca was already there, sitting at the table staring into her lap. Bucky stood behind her and squeezed her shoulder before sitting down. Steve took a seat opposite Bucky and Rebecca, as Mrs. Phillips started ladling stew and boiled vegetables onto the plates in front of them. Mr. Phillips came into the kitchen from the backdoor, sat at the head of the table and began to eat.

“Eat up!” said Mrs. Phillips as she took her place at the opposite end of the table. Steve was used to saying grace at home with his ma, but he didn’t want to offend them so he started to eat.

“These brussel sprouts are delicious,” Bucky said after a few moments of silence.

Steve rolled his eyes. Of course Bucky was the kind of kid who _liked_  brussel sprouts.

Rebecca sniffled quietly as she ate. “Dont’ worry”, Bucky said to her. He put his arm around her shoulders. “The war will be over soon. We’ll be back in London before you know it.”

Mr. Phillips shared a look over their heads with his wife. “Now don’t go making promises to her you can’t keep, boy.” Bucky’s shoulders stiffened a little, but he didn’t turn away from his comforting sister.

A tension fell over the table and Steve felt like he needed to say something to distract Mr. Phillips’s attention away from Bucky. He owed Bucky that much. “Were you in the Great War Mr. Phillips?” he asked. From the corner of his eye he saw Bucky return to his dinner.

“I sure was,” said Mr. Phillips. “And let me tell you boys, You’re damn lucky you’re not old enough to be out there. All these posters and films make it look so glamorous, but it’s not. Not even close.”

Steve looked over to Bucky who raised his eyebrow at him and shrugged, before he went back to eating his carrots. Steve didn’t care if it was glamorous or not. He just wanted to fight for what was right. Instead, he was stuck in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t even be with his ma. He felt useless.

 

♥

 

After they had helped clear away the dishes they went upstairs for bed.

“Oooo-ooooooo,” Bucky sang behind Steve as they walked up the stairs to the attic. Steve assumed it was supposed to be a ghost noise. He couldn’t help but smile at how silly it was.

“Really scary,” he said sarcastically.

“You will be scared when the ghost comes to eat you up first.”

“I didn’t know ghosts _ate_ people,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. Anyway, they would surely eat Bucky before they ate him.

“Of course they do! But garlic keeps them away. I’m going to get some from the garden as soon as I can.”

“I don’t think that’s right…” Steve said. “Isn’t garlic to ward off vampires?”

Bucky considered that for a moment. “Well, there are probably vampires here too. How do you ward off ghosts then?”

“I’m not sure. But I _really_  don’t think there are ghosts here. Or vampires.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Bucky said.

As they got dressed for bed, Steve caught a glimpse of Bucky’s bare chest and quickly looked away. It embarrassed him, but he wasn’t sure why.

“I can't believe Mrs. Phillips is a kraut,” he heard Bucky say from behind him.

“Don't call her that,” Steve said.

“Well... she is.”

“It's not nice,” Steve insisted. Mrs. Phillips hadn't been anything but kind to them so far, and Steve certainly liked her a lot more than her husband.

Bucky giggled but it lasted only a moment. “You're right,” he said. “I won't do it again.”

Steve wasn't expecting that. It made him uneasy. He had the start of a fight boiling up inside him and nothing to aim it towards. He turned back to Bucky suspiciously but Bucky just smiled at him.

“Well, goodnight,” Bucky said as he got into bed and rolled on to his side, facing away from Steve.

“Goodnight,” Steve replied, and turned off the light.

 

♥

 

When Steve lay down that night he was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He wasn’t good at falling asleep in strange places. Not to mention all the talk of ghosts. But he must have been more tired than he thought, because the next thing he knew he was waking up in the morning, the sun streaming through the small circular window above his bed. He looked over to the other bed to find it empty and neatly made.

When he went downstairs to the kitchen, he found Rebecca and Mrs. Phillips at the table eating breakfast, but no Bucky.

“Good morning Steven,” Mrs. Phillips said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry I slept in so late.”

“No, no, don’t apologise,” she said. “You had a big day yesterday. Here, eat some eggs.”

Steve accepted the food and ate hungrily. “Where’s Bucky?” he asked with a full mouth.

“Please swallow your food before you speak. James is out in the vegetable garden with my husband. He was very eager.”

Steve felt a pang of resentment towards Bucky. Mr. Phillips probably loved him. He probably made Steve look like even more of a disappointment in comparison.

“I can help too,” Steve said. He tried to eat his breakfast even faster.

“I think Mr. Phillips is all right for now. I would like to show you and Rebecca how we look after our chickens this morning. We also have a cow. Would you like to learn how to milk her?”

Steve didn’t think that sounded so bad, it actually sounded kind of fun. He nodded, “Yes please.”

It _was_ pretty fun. He had never been out in the country before. It was like something in a storybook. He and Rebecca laughed at how strange it felt to touch the cow’s udder. They also chased around a chicken, though Steve felt a little mean about doing that. For a while, he forgot why he was there, and then he felt guilty. His ma would be at work, probably worrying about him, and he was off in what felt like another world. A world where the war might as well not even exist.

They were helping Mrs. Phillips prepare the midday meal when Bucky burst through the backdoor. He looked elated. “I got to pick tomatoes!” he exclaimed. He held up a basket full of them.

Mrs. Phillips chuckled. “Give those to me, we’ll have some on our sandwiches. Wash your hands before you eat anything.”

“Yes ma'am,” Bucky said as he walked to the kitchen sink to wash up. Mr. Phillips came in a few moments later and they all sat down to eat.

“Steve, Mr. Phillips showed me around the land this morning. I can show it to you this afternoon, if you want,” Bucky said.

“Okay,” Steve said, although he was somewhat wary about spending a whole afternoon with Bucky.

“Can I come too?” Rebecca asked.

“Of course.” Bucky smiled at her.

“Don’t go too far,” Mrs. Phillips warned.

After lunch they set out. They walked past the garden first and Bucky pointed out different types of vegetables. “And that’s where the potatoes are but they’re not ready yet. They’re mostly for winter anyway.”

Steve didn’t want to think about still being there in winter. “Did you get your piece of garlic?” he asked.

If Bucky picked up any trace of animosity in Steve’s voice he certainly didn’t show it. “Sure did,” he said, pulling a small grey lump out of his pocket to show Steve.

“Well, it better not stink up our room,” was Steve’s reply.

They walked in silence for a while after that. Rebecca was ahead of them chasing butterflies. “We could play ‘Tag’,” Bucky suggested.

“My ma doesn't like me to play things like that, in case I have an asthma attack,” Steve said. He didn’t mention that he never got asked to play anyway.

“You have asthma?” Bucky asked. He looked worried.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. I only have an attack if I overexert myself.” Having to explain it made him feel like a baby.

“I wish I’d known before I asked you to come out here,” Bucky said.

“I can _walk_  without having an attack.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to argue but didn’t say anything else. Steve found that to be almost _more_  annoying.

“Did you ever try to sign up for the army?” Steve blurted out.

Bucky started in surprise. “What? No. I’m fourteen!”

“I know, but I bet you could pass for eighteen. I wish I looked older, I would enlist today if I could.”

A dark shadow fell across Bucky's face. “And if I did that then what? I let Becca come out here all by herself?”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t have any siblings, he couldn’t relate to being relied on by anyone. He wished he hadn’t said anything, even though a part of him knew this was what he wanted. He wanted to get under Bucky’s skin. Maybe to prove he wasn’t perfect.

“Anyway,” Bucky continued. “You heard what Mr. Phillips said. We’re lucky we’re too young. What do you want to go to war for anyway?”

“To fight for our freedom!” Steve said.

“You can’t fight for much if you’re dead,” said Bucky.

Steve looked away. He thought it was strange that Bucky didn't show any interest in the war. “Don’t you care at all?” he asked.

Bucky stopped and turned to him. “Of course I care. I care about my country and I care about freedom and I care that we’ve been sent away from our parents. But I don’t see the point in complaining about something I can’t change. We might as well just make the best out of the situation we’re in. Can we stop talking about it now?”

Steve nodded, feeling a little deflated. What Bucky said made sense. He was a kid, he couldn’t actually change anything, deep down he knew that. But it hurt to think that way. He hated to see terrible things happening and not be able to help. He wondered if he would ever not feel powerless.

 

♥

 

The truth was that Mr. Phillips didn't _really_  need Steve _or_ Bucky's help with his garden. Sometimes, he would even get annoyed with Bucky hanging around him all the time. As a result, they had a lot of free time to play outside. They went on walks a lot.

If anything, Mrs. Phillips was the one who needed more help. She spent a lot of time finding ways to preserve the vegetables for winter. The garden was so fruitful that there was more food than they could handle, even with three growing children to feed.

That Saturday Mrs. Phillips asked them to help her set up a stall at the end of their driveway. Bucky was especially excited about it and chatted away with stories about the greengrocer he had worked at, as they laid out trays and bunches of vegetables.

"Do you do this every Saturday?" Steve asked Mrs. Phillips.

"Not every Saturday," she said. "Many people around here... They have their own gardens, you know. They don't need to buy from us." She sounded strained, like she wasn't telling Steve the whole truth about something.

They settled in to wait for the customers. After an hour, Steve could see what she was talking about; they had only had two customers. One of them bought a few tomatoes, barely saying a word. The other one picked through an entire tray of cucumbers, inspecting every one, even though Steve could see they were perfect, not a single blemish on any of them. She then argued about the price.

Later on, there was one lady who seemed friendly, and chatted with Mrs. Phillips for a while, but hardly anyone else did. Even Bucky's enthusiasm had dropped significantly halfway through the morning. They still had half of the produce left when they began packing up around midday.

Mrs. Phillips said Steve and Bucky could take rest to the Parker's in the afternoon. A family that lived further down the road who were not very well off.

Steve had become more and more concerned throughout the morning that, if the Phillipses were having so much trouble selling their goods, how could they care for themselves, much less three children of strangers? When he got up the nerve to voice this to Mrs. Phillips she just smiled and patted his cheek. "No, no. Don't worry about that Steven. We are very fortunate. We just want to help the war effort. But we don't need to do this."

It made Steve sad. They cared so much and put so much effort in to what they did, and hardly anyone appreciated it.

"Stupid war," was all Bucky said when Steve tried to talk to him about it.

 

♥

 

That night Steve got out his sketchbook for the first time since they had arrived in the countryside. He had seen a particularly interesting caterpillar on a head of lettuce that day and wanted to capture it on paper before he forgot what it looked like.

“What’ve you got there Stevie?” Bucky asked. He had taken to calling Steve ‘Stevie,’ and there really wasn’t anything Steve could do about it. Secretly, he didn’t mind that much.

“Just my sketchbook. Nothing special,” he said reluctantly. He thought Bucky might ask to look at it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to show it to him just yet.

“I didn’t know you were an artist,” Bucky said.

“I’m hardly an artist,” Steve said, his face growing red.

Bucky shrugged. “Sure you are. I bet you can draw better than me. I can’t even draw a stick figure.”

Steve hesitated a moment before, in a sudden act of bravery, he got off his bed and sat down next to Bucky on his. “I can show you if you like.”

“Only if you want to,” Bucky said.

The fact that Bucky gave him the choice was what really persuaded him into wanting to share. He handed the book to Bucky. “I want to.”

Bucky took the book and slowly turned the pages. “Wow, these are great.”

Steve waved his hand. “They’re not that good. It’s just practice,” he said.

Bucky looked up and smiled. “No really, Steve. Remember me when you’re a famous artist, will you?”

Steve laughed and shoved at Bucky’s shoulder, but he was pleased. He hadn’t realised how much he wanted Bucky’s approval.

Before they turned the light off Steve wrote his ma a letter.

_Dear Ma,_

_How are you? I hope things aren't too bad in London. I try and listen to the wireless for news and sometimes Mr. Phillips has a newspaper that he lets me read. Please write to me as much as you can so I know you’re okay._

_Mrs. Phillips is really nice, I bet you’d like her. She’s going to teach me and Rebecca (one of the kids I’m here with) how to make bread. The Phillipses grow lots of vegetables here. Yes, I’m eating everything they give me, even the brussel sprouts. We sold some of the vegetables today, it was really fun._

_I'm here with two other kids. Bucky (that's not his real name. His real name is James Buchanan Barnes) and his sister Rebecca, who I told you about. They're nice but Bucky sure talks a lot. He keeps trying to scare me by saying there are ghosts in the attic (we sleep in the attic but don’t worry, there’s no dust) but I know ghosts aren’t real. I’m not an idiot._

_I like sleeping in the attic. It’s nice and cozy. I really like it here. I think you’re right about the air being better for me (there isn’t any black stuff in my nose any more when I blow it). But I’d still rather be back in London with you. Or New York._

_I hope the war ends soon. I hope you're not missing me too much. I miss you. I think about you all the time._

_Say hello to Aunt Claire for me._

_Love,_

_Steve_

 

♥

 

A week or so later they decided to play cricket. Well, Bucky decided to play cricket when he found the bat and wicket in an old shed and nagged Steve until he agreed to play with him.

Steve wasn’t very good at the game. He was used to baseball. At least, he was used to the _rules_  of baseball, even though he hadn’t played much of it.

“Come on Rogers, at least act like you’re trying!” Bucky was mercilessly teasing him. First about his throwing skills, and then about his inability to hit the ball with the bat.

Steve was really starting to get annoyed and was about to lay into Bucky, when, as he looked at Bucky’s laughing face, something strange came over him. Bucky’s eyes were all crinkled up, his cheeks stretched wide as he grinned and the sunlight behind his head created a halo effect, like he was glowing.

It suddenly occurred to Steve that Bucky was very handsome, and he felt almost winded by it. It was the first real jolt of attraction he had felt for anybody. He knew his peers had begun being interested in the opposite sex, but he never had. He had thought it was just another part of his body that hadn't caught up to everyone else yet. Now he was struck by the thought that maybe he just didn’t like girls that way.

Maybe he liked boys.

As much as the butterflies in his stomach felt strangely pleasant, there was also a part of him that knew this feeling was wrong. Steve couldn’t remember anyone ever actually telling him so, but it was just something he had always seemed to know. This wasn’t how he was supposed to feel about Bucky.

The ball hit him square in the chest. “Ooof. Hey! That hurt!”

Bucky cackled. “Well, you’re supposed to hit it! What were you trying to do? Catch it with your chest?”

Steve threw the bat down. “This game is stupid! I’m not playing any more!”

“Aw, come on Stevie! Don’t be a bad sport.”

“I am _not_  a bad sport,” Steve spat. He was supremely glad he managed to refrain from stomping his foot.

“Here,” Bucky said as he walked towards him. “Why don’t I help you with your swing?” He walked behind Steve and wrapped his arms around him, grabbing Steve’s arms.

“What are you doing?” Steve practically fell over himself in his haste to wriggle away from Bucky’s grasp.

“Calm down. I’m trying to show you how to use the bat properly,” Bucky said. He sounded exasperated.

“Well don’t! I don’t want to know!” Steve was really getting himself worked up at this point. He vaguely knew he could trigger an asthma attack at any moment, but he was so full of confusion and anger he didn’t think he could calm himself if he tried.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Mr. Phillips demanded. Steve hadn’t seen him approach and evidently neither had Bucky.

“Sorry Sir,” Bucky said sheepishly. He didn’t even try to deny that they had been arguing.

“You boys are too old for that kind of nonsense,” Mr. Phillips said. Steve and Bucky just stared at the ground. “Now pack up this stuff and go inside. You can spend the rest of the day in your room.”

They didn’t speak to each other as they put the cricket gear back in the shed. Nor for the rest of the afternoon. Bucky lay on his bed reading a book and Steve grew increasingly frustrated with his drawings; none of them came out the way he wanted them to. Eventually he threw his sketchbook across the room in a huff.

Bucky pretended not to notice him. He never asked Steve to play cricket again.

 

♥

 

Both boys were in better moods the next day, and in the afternoon they went for a walk together. Rebecca had chosen to stay behind. Thanks to Mrs. Philips, she had found a passion for knitting. She said she needed to work on the scarves she was knitting for both Bucky and Steve, if she wanted them to be finished by wintertime.

It was an unusually sunny day and they took their time, strolling further than they normally did. Bucky seemed a little subdued and Steve felt guilty about that. He was obviously still mad at Steve for getting them in trouble the previous day. He wasn’t ignoring Steve, but he wasn’t his cheerful, chatty self either.

“Um, about yesterday,” Steve began.

“Ah forget it Stevie,” Bucky said. “You don’t like cricket. It’s fine.”

“I overreacted. Sorry,” he mumbled. He wasn’t the best at apologising.

Bucky laughed and threw his arm around Steve’s neck, messing up his hair. “I’m sorry too,” he said. He let go and they awkwardly grinned at each other before they went back to watching where their feet were going.

“Hey look,” Bucky said, pointing to a small stream. He walked over to the edge and stuck his hand in.

“You’re not thinking of going in there are you?” Steve asked incredulously.

“Nah,” Bucky said. He splashed water at Steve. Steve yelped and ran away. “The water’s too cold,” Bucky said as he sat down on the grass. Steve followed. “But the sun’s nice and warm.” He took off his hat and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Haven’t you heard of sunbathing?” he said.

“Yes,” Steve replied. “I just don’t see why _you_  have to do it.”

“Well, _I_  don’t see why you have to question everything I do. Jeez.” He slid the shirt off his shoulders and laid down on the grass, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Steve turned his head towards the stream. The butterflies in his stomach were back. He was glad, from that position, Bucky couldn’t see him blush. He really didn’t mean to argue with Bucky so much. It was something he always did when he felt insecure, and he certainly felt insecure around Bucky. Not just because Bucky was so good at everything, but because Steve now realised that he liked Bucky, in a way that wasn’t just friendly. He burned in shame at the thought.

A part of Steve wanted to blame Bucky for the way he felt about him, even though he knew that wasn’t fair. It was frustrating to have these feelings and no one to talk to about it. He wondered, if his ma were there, would he have the guts to talk to her?

He stood up without saying anything to Bucky and walked up to a thicket of trees. He inspected the area for interesting looking bugs but didn’t find much. He took his time collecting several different shaped leaves he could take back with him to draw later. He had probably been gone half an hour or so and when he came back Bucky was asleep. He had his head to one side and the cheek that was facing the sky had a pink tinge to it. His chest and arms were also undeniably sunburnt.

Steve shook him awake.

“Huh? Bucky’s head shot up and he looked around in confusion.

“Nice suntan,” Steve said smugly.

Bucky looked down at his chest and held his arms out to inspect them. “Shit.”

Steve laughed as Bucky sat all the way up and winced. Steve was lucky he had been walking around under the trees where there was lots of shade. Usually he burned very easily. But Bucky didn’t need to know that. Steve had been smart enough to keep his shirt on, after all. “Really, it suits you,” he persisted.

“Shut up,” Bucky said, but he couldn’t hide the lopsided grin on his face.

They walked back home after that. Mrs. Phillips made a fuss over Bucky’s face, slapping ointment across his cheek. He didn’t show her the damage underneath his shirt. He scowled at Steve as Steve watched and laughed the whole time.

 

♥

 

In the evenings they usually all sat in the living room and listened to the wireless. Sometimes Steve would doodle in his sketchbook, but most nights he would play card games with Bucky.

They had become so competitive over ‘Snap’ (sporadically slamming their palms down and yelling ‘“Snap!” way too loudly) that Mr. Phillips told them they had to start playing something else, because it wasn’t good for his nerves. Bucky was teaching Steve how to play ‘Beggar-My-Neighbor’. It wasn’t particularly hard but Steve would often be distracted when he heard a news bulletin.

“Come on Steve,” Bucky would whine. He jutted out his lower lip in a pouty face and Steve’s heart fluttered.

Bucky tried to teach Steve other games as well but Steve just wasn’t that good at them. Despite that, he seemed to win an unusual amount of times.

“Are you letting me win?” he eventually asked.

Bucky looked offended. “I would _never_  do that.”

Steve wasn’t sure about that, but as long as Bucky kept looking at him in that way he guessed he didn’t mind. Every day it became harder and harder to imagine his life without Bucky Barnes in it. And it became easier and easier to be besotted with him.

 

♥

 

During the day Steve spent a lot of time helping Mrs. Phillips in the kitchen with Rebecca, while Bucky helped Mr. Phillips outside. He did laundry, made bread, pickled vegetables. He didn’t mind the work but often found himself distracted by the window. He would look out trying to catch a glimpse of what Bucky was up to.

He really hoped Mrs. Phillips never caught on to what he was doing. He was so paranoid about anyone finding out about his feelings for Bucky, that he was convinced every tiny thing he did would give him away. The night before, he had even panicked that he was being too obvious when he’d asked Bucky to pass the beans.

That day he saw Bucky chopping firewood for the stove, not too far from the window. Steve thought Bucky might have grown since they arrived a month ago. He certainly had adjusted to country life. It suited him. Bucky seemed to be perpetually good at everything. It was something that made Steve simultaneously bitter towards him, but made him like Bucky even more.

After lunch that day, Mrs. Phillips asked Steve and Rebecca to go into the town to buy a few things and post some letters, including the recent ones they had written to their parents.

As much as he liked Rebecca, Steve kind of wished Bucky was going with him instead. He cherished the walks he got to go on with Bucky, and the walk into town was a long one. Rebecca wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet, but she was also thoughtful about when she spoke and didn’t fill the air with mindless chatter the way Bucky did. Steve wondered when that trait of Bucky’s ceased to annoy him and endeared him to Steve instead.

They ended up playing ‘I Spy’ to pass the time, though on a road mostly lined with trees they quickly ran out of inspiration. Steve was glad when the town came into view. They visited the post office first, then went to the store. There was a very long line in the store because the clerk had to process everyone’s ration coupons.

Steve and Rebecca were waiting behind two women who were discussing other families in the community. Steve hadn’t been paying too much attention to what they were saying - his ma always frowned upon gossiping - when it dawned on him that they were talking about the Phillipses. He was instantly very focused on their conversation.

“I heard they’re not even really married!” one of the women said. She was practically bursting with excitement.

“Oh no, they’re definitely married,” the other one said. “She would have made sure of it. My husband says he’s a lot wealthier than he lets people believe.”

“Well, I don’t see why he couldn’t find himself an English wife,” the first woman said.

The other woman nodded. “She should never have been allowed in the country in the first place.”

Steve hated the way people treated the Phillipses. He was dangerously close to interrupting these women, but he couldn’t help but think that if he caused a scene, he would only make things worse for the them.

He did, however, say “Don’t listen to them,” to Rebecca, perhaps a little too loudly.

Both women jumped and turned around to look at Steve, who quickly found his shoes very interesting. Luckily, a moment later, the clerk indicated to one of the women that it was her turn, and she briefly had more important things to worry about.

On the walk home, Steve couldn’t stop thinking about what they had said. He couldn’t understand why people were so cruel to Mrs. Phillips. She didn’t deserve to be condemned just because she was different. It didn’t make any sense to him.

The Phillipses had done nothing to hurt anyone. All Steve could see was that they were kind and generous people, if a little gruff, in Mr. Phillips’s case. If people just got to know them before they judged them, then surely they would see what Steve saw too.

 

♥

 

“I’ve got an idea,” Bucky said one day, as they were lying on the grass outside, trying to think of ways to entertain themselves. “We could play ‘Hide-and-seek’. You don’t have to run around a lot to play that game.”

“That’s a kids game,” Steve scoffed.

“Well, have you got a better idea?”

Steve didn’t, so they went looking for Rebecca, to ask if she would join them. “No!” She said. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” She barely looked up from her knitting.

“How are we supposed to play hide-and-seek with just two people?” Steve asked.

Bucky thought for a moment. “We’ll take turns looking for each other. The person who finds the other person the quickest wins. I’ll time it,” he said, holding up his wrist to show his watch.

“How do I know you won’t cheat?” Steve asked.

“You time it then.” Bucky handed his watch over to Steve.

“How do you know _I_ won’t cheat?” Steve put the watch on, but even on it’s tightest notch it was loose.

“I trust you,” Bucky said with a wink.

They split up. Steve listened to Bucky loudly counting to ten as he scurried off to look for a hiding place. He scanned the yard but nothing immediately stood out to him. He began to panic and jumped behind the chicken coop.

After a moment or two he heard Bucky calling his name from a distance. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sang.

The urge to laugh bubbled up in Steve’s chest and he covered his hand over his mouth.

“Steeevieeeee,” Bucky’s voice rang out. He was definitely getting closer. “Got you!” he heard Bucky yell. “Oops, not there.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his hand. He was about to laugh.

“I know you’re around here somewhere,” Bucky said, now even closer.

Steve couldn’t take it any longer. He burst out laughing. A second later Bucky stuck his head around the corner of the chicken coop, grinning.

“You got me, you got me,” Steve said as he lay down on the ground, trying to calm himself. He looked at the watch. “Six minutes.”

Bucky punched the air. “It’s not my fault you gave yourself away Steve. This is going to be a piece of cake.”

“We’ll see,” Steve said as he offered his hand to Bucky. Bucky hauled him to his feet.

“Yeah, yeah. Turn around and start counting,” Bucky said.

Steve turned around and closed his eyes. “One… Two… Three…” When he got to ten he opened his eyes and did a quick scan of the yard. Nothing. He checked the shed, all around the house and even inside the chicken coop. Still no Bucky. He checked the watch, he had lost this round by five minutes already.

He started walking the way they usually went on their walks, towards the stream, checking behind bushes and trees. How had Bucky gotten so far?

Just as Steve was walking past some trees that lead into the forest, and contemplating turning back, a deafening “BOO” was yelled into his left ear. He nearly jumped out of his shoes in fright. He whipped around and Bucky promptly began roaring with laughter. He bent over with one hand on his knee and the other around his middle.

“You jerk!” Steve shrieked. He lunged forward and pushed Bucky over. Bucky just pulled Steve down with him as he continued laughing.

Steve’s heart was still racing from the shock, and Bucky pulling Steve down so that he was practically on top of him was not helping at all. He struggled to get free but Bucky was gripping his arms tightly. In an instant, Bucky went quiet, his face serious. Steve stopped struggling and looked down at him, trying to decipher the look in Bucky’s eyes. They were searching Steve’s face. 

Then Bucky tipped his head and brushed his lips against Steve’s. It was so light that Steve thought he could have imagined it. Except, when Steve didn’t react Bucky kissed him again.

Fear welled up inside of him. This was what he wanted, but suddenly it was all too much. He pushed Bucky’s shoulders down and pushed himself to a standing position. Bucky was up off the ground only a second later. He reached his arm towards Steve but Steve swatted it away.

“I thought…” Bucky stuttered. He looked extremely hurt.

“You shouldn’t be thinking anything,” Steve said. “Except… except about the war.”

Bucky looked stunned. Then his face hardened. He turned from Steve and stormed into the trees.

Steve immediately knew he had made a mistake. “Wait… Bucky! Wait!” Bucky didn’t stop. In fact, he started to walk faster. Steve ran after him. “Bucky. I’m sorry!”

"Go away Steve!" Bucky yelled.

“No! Please stop!”

“You and your stupid war! Just leave me alone!”

Steve continued to follow but was struggling to keep up. He was beginning to feel his chest tighten. His breaths were starting to shorten. “Please… stop,” he wheezed. With every step he took the more difficult it was to breathe. He finally stopped and fell to his knees.“Bucky!”

Bucky turned around and the anger quickly left his face. “Steve!” He ran back to Steve and fell to his knees beside him. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Asthma,” Steve managed to choke out.

“Do you have your medicine with you?” Bucky asked. Steve shook his head. “I’ll get it. Just stay here.” He sprinted off before Steve could respond. Not that he would have been able to say much anyway. He sat down properly and put his head on his knees, willing himself to take slow, deep breaths.

He had never been so terrified of dying from an asthma attack before. He prayed he wouldn’t die there, alone. With Bucky mad at him. He thought about his ma. It had been so long since he had seen her. He couldn’t die after she’d sent him there to protect him. Stupid war, he thought. Bucky was right.

But he might never have met Bucky if there wasn’t a war.

He focused on his breathing. He focused on his mother’s face. Then on Bucky’s face and the way he had looked that day when they played cricket. Like he was glowing.

“Steve,” he heard Bucky yell. He looked up and Bucky appeared through the trees. He skidded to his knees beside Steve with a pill bottle in his hand. He opened it and poured a handful of round, white pills into his palm, holding it out to Steve. Steve took two and shoved them into his mouth. He didn’t have any water to take them with but it didn’t matter, he swallowed them down as best he could. Bucky put the rest of the pills back into the bottle and sat down beside Steve. He rubbed Steve’s back in soothing circles.

“Shhh,” he whispered as Steve breathed in and out, slowly coming back to himself.

Just then, Mr. Phillips appeared, looking slightly out of breath himself. “Boys?” he called. “Steve, are you all right?” he asked.

Steve nodded his head, still not having enough energy to speak. He realised Bucky must have fetched Mr. Phillips as well as his medicine, but sprinted back way too fast for Mr. Phillips to catch up. He reached out and grabbed Bucky’s free hand, squeezing it tight.

When Steve was finally ready to go back to the house, Bucky helped him to his feet and put his arm around him protectively as they started to walk. Steve didn’t really need his help, but it felt good.

“You scared us. Don’t go anywhere without your medicine again, do you hear me?” Mr. Phillips said and patted Steve awkwardly on the shoulder.

“I won’t,” Steve agreed. He was incredibly grateful to both of them, but Bucky especially. He had saved Steve’s life.

 

♥

 

Steve was told to go to bed early that night. After Mrs. Phillips had made a huge fuss over him, of course. Bucky brought him his tea in bed. However, when Steve tried to talk to him, he just shook his head and told Steve to rest.

Steve was lying awake in the dark when he heard Bucky come upstairs and quietly get into bed. He waited a few moments before speaking. “Bucky?” He looked over, even in the dark he could see Bucky had his back turned to him.

“What?” Bucky asked. It was surprisingly emotionless.

“Are you still mad at me?” Bucky didn't answer. “I'm sorry I pushed you away,” Steve continued. Still, Bucky said nothing.

In a moment of bravery, Steve got out of bed and padded over to Bucky’s side of the room. He pushed at Bucky's back. Bucky yelped as Steve pushed him forward, towards the wall. Steve was quick, and he climbed into the bed next to him, where an empty space had been created. Bucky looked over his shoulder and huffed. He turned back to the wall. Steve could feel his body was tense. “You can't ignore me forever,” Steve said.

“Yes I can.”

Steve giggled nervously. “You aren't doing a very good job, you just spoke to me.”

“No I didn't,” Bucky said. Steve could hear a hint of laughter in his voice. They lay in silence for a few minutes until Steve felt Bucky slowly turn over to face him.

“I'm sorry Steve,” Bucky whispered. “It’s all my fault. It’s my fault you had an asthma attack. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry for… for kissing you. I know wanting to kiss you is wrong.”

Steve shook his head. “Bucky... no. It’s not your fault I have asthma. I'm the one who’s sorry. I wanted you to kiss me. I don't know why I pushed you away, I think I was scared. But, it's not because I didn't like it.”

Bucky shuffled closer. “I was scared too.”

“Really? I didn’t think you were scared of anything,” Steve said.

Bucky laughed, a little grimly. “I’m scared of lots of things Steve. Like what could happen to my parents in London. What would happen to Becca if I wasn’t there to look after her. I’m scared of the war. What if it doesn’t end and one day they send me off to fight? I was scared today, I thought you were going to die.” He shivered. “And I’m scared of how much I like you.”

Steve lay quietly, feeling the warmth of Bucky’s breath, so close to his face. Eventually, he spoke. “Lots of people think Mr. and Mrs. Phillips being married is wrong. But I don't see how that could be. They love each other, and they're good people. Shouldn’t that be all that matters? So why… why would it be wrong for two men to be together if they were good people?”

“I don't know,” Bucky said, “It just is. Everybody thinks so.”

“Well, it's stupid,” Steve said.

Bucky reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Steve's chest. Steve was sure Bucky would be able to feel his heart beating, elevated and erratic.

“I'm really glad I met you Steve.”

“Me too,” Steve whispered. He placed his own hand over Bucky's.

Bucky sighed, then he lifted his head and placed a shy kiss to the side of Steve's mouth. Steve squeezed Bucky's fingers. He wished this moment would never end. He didn't think he had ever felt so happy.

 

♥

  
That night they both slept soundly. Just for that night, their hearts were lighter than they had ever been.

**Author's Note:**

> [So! If anyone read this, hi! I’m on tumblr. Please talk to me. =D](http://lovesdresses.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. I haven’t written anything in almost five years, which means I’m a bit rusty, but, I kind of HAD to write this. So please be kind?
> 
> 2\. In case it wasn't obvious, yes Mrs. Phillips is a genderbent version of Dr. Erskine. Like everything about this fic: it just happened.
> 
> 3\. The line about the black stuff in Steve’s nose - if you’ve ever been to London you know what I’m talking about. It’s gross, but a thirteen year old talking about his snot? Not unlikely. 
> 
> 4\. Although I did some research, I really know very little about growing vegetables, so if any of that stuff didn’t make sense I do apologise.
> 
> 5\. Title from Ellie Goulding song “Devotion.”


End file.
